TOW The Letters
by Monica-Bing
Summary: The future doesn't always turn out the way you thought it might. (Basically C&M sap with a bit of a plot thrown in.) Entire story posted.
1. The Letters

AN:  I know what you're thinking:  Oh my goodness, she actually wrote something again?  Well, this has been in progress for a long while, but it was harder to write than I thought it would be.  This was originally intended to be a stand-alone, but it turned out so dang long that I had to split it up.  But, I still wanted to post it all at once, because it would make absolutely no sense unless you could read the whole thing at once.  

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**_This is not an entirely original idea, but I really don't know where I got it from…some old tv show or something.  It's also based on personal experience a bit, since something similar happened to me when I received a letter I wrote in high school that my old English teacher mailed to us when we graduated from college.  So, bear with me._**

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**_Okay, what you need to know: Everything is the same as the show, except Ross, Rachel, and Monica knew Chandler when they were little.  That's rather…crucial…to the plot.  In 2001, M&C have just gotten married and Rachel is a few months pregnant with Emma. _**

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**_One last thing:  The characters aren't mine!   Here we go…  (That was a long Author's Note, huh?)_**

****

****

**_August, 1981…_**

Ten-year-old Monica Geller frowned as she stared down at the blank piece of notebook paper in front of her.  _Why did Rachel have to think of such a stupid game? _ she wondered crossly, conveniently forgetting that she had originally thought her best friend's proposal was brilliant.  As soon as Rachel pitched the idea of writing letters to their future selves, Monica had grabbed on with both hands, her romantic nature making her eyes go dreamy as she considered hiding a letter away that wouldn't be read again for twenty years.    

Plus, Rachel had been convincing.  So convincing, in fact, that she had even persuaded Ross and Chandler to join in on the project.  Monica was sure it was the **idea** of burying the letters and digging them up decades later - rather than the letters themselves - that interested Ross, but he had still agreed to do it.  As for Chandler…he had denounced the game as silly at first but eventually relented when Ross did – probably assuming that since he'd have to wait on Ross to finish either way, he might as well participate and escape the wrath Rachel Green would have for him if he refused her.  

But now that the others were all intent on the task, Monica found that she had no idea what to write.  Rachel's letter would be easy enough – Rachel already had her future planned out.  She knew exactly which neighborhood she wanted to live in, what kind of car would be in the garage, which designer label would be on her wedding gown, and where she and her future husband (a doctor of course) would vacation each spring.  Monica could probably write Rachel's letter as easily as Rachel herself could.  

But she wasn't sure what to put in her own.  When she dreamed about her future, it took all sorts of shapes, different every time.  There was only one constant in those dreams…one thing she wanted.  And she wasn't sure she dared to put **_that_**on paper.  

Keeping her head bowed, Monica carefully raised her eyes and stole a glance at the others.  Rachel was studying her paper, her gaudy pink pen resting against her lips as she scrutinized what she had just written.  Chandler was grinning to himself as he wrote, pausing every few seconds to smile at whatever he had placed on the page.  Ross, the golden child, was bent almost double over his pad of paper and was writing furiously…poster boy for "the perfect student" club. 

Monica panicked when she saw Ross reach for the envelope lying next to him and begin to precisely fold his paper into thirds.  She didn't need to look to know that Rachel and Chandler were finishing theirs up as well.  Sensing that she was out of time, Monica looked back down at her paper, staring at the only words she had written.  Even those were Rachel's and not her own - it was how Rachel had advised all of them to begin their letters.  

**_When I grow up, I want..._**  

In a surge of courage brought on by the realization that Chandler had finished and was walking toward her, Monica hastily scribbled her dream onto the paper, then immediately folded the brief "letter" before she could regret it.  A moment later, the paper was sealed in the envelope addressed to "Monica E. Geller, Age 30", and half an hour later, Ross was jabbering annoyingly about how much fun it would be to dig up the "relics from our childhoods".  

Two weeks later, the letters were all but forgotten.

**_August, 2001 (20 Years Later)…_**

****

Monica groaned as the shrill ringing of the alarm clock pulled her from a deep sleep, then sighed thankfully when the irritating sound stopped abruptly a moment later.  Almost immediately, a familiar arm draped itself over her, and she felt Chandler press a kiss against the back of her head. 

"Morning, babe," her husband of almost three months whispered in the rough, sexy morning voice that made her stomach twist into knots like she was still a teenager.  She shivered involuntarily, not from cold but from the tingling sensation that rushed over her body at the sound of his voice.  

"Cold?" Chandler mumbled in response to her trembling, as he pulled the covers up a little higher and tightened his arm around her.  He moved even closer, his nearness warming her heart even more than her body, and sighed contentedly as he rested his head against the curve of her neck.  "There…better?"  

"Mmmhmm," Monica sighed, turning over so she was facing him.  His eyes were already closed again, but the hint of a smile flitted across his face when she reached up to run her fingers through his wayward, sleep-ruffled hair.  She let her hand rest at the nape of his neck, smiling at the peaceful look on his face.  She had been waking up next to him for years now, but on mornings like this she still had to swallow the lump that came to her throat.  

After giving him a brief kiss on the lips, she started to lift herself reluctantly from the bed.  Instinctively, Chandler's arm snaked out and grabbed her, pulling her back down beside him.

"Stay here," he murmured sleepily.  "Just for a minute."

"We have to get up," Monica protested without conviction, even as she snuggled back up to the warmth of his body.  "I promised Mom and Dad we'd be there by 10."

"Tell me again why I have to go with you?" Chandler asked, opening one eye and squinting at her.  

Monica smiled and kissed his nose.  "Because you married me.  You're one of the Gellers now; there's no escaping it."

Chandler rolled his eyes, clearly not pleased with the explanation.  "I thought when I married you, you were becoming a Bing, not the other way around."

"Fine," Monica replied, undeterred.  "Then you're going because you love me."

"I knew there had to be a good reason," Chandler muttered.  "Okay…But if your father starts in on our sex life again, you'll have to catch a ride home with Ross."

"Fair enough," Monica agreed with a smile.  "Now get up.  We're going to be late."  
            "Nobody's going to care if we're a few minutes late," Chandler told her, pulling her closer to him and planting a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Easy for you to say," Monica groaned, rolling her eyes.  "My parents adore **_you_**_, _so they wouldn't dare say anything to **_you_** about the fact that **_we_** were late.  But my mother will be making snide comments to **_me_** all day."  Monica gave him one more quick kiss before trying to disentangle herself from his arms.  "And I don't think you'll like my mood tonight if I spend the whole day listening to her little comments about the five minutes they had to wait on us."

"Fine," Chandler relented, letting her go, though he was silently gloating over her admission that Jack and Judy **_loved_** him.  "So why are we going to Long Island anyway?"  
            "We're helping them move Mom's precious rose bushes to the side of the house before the pool people dig up the backyard."

"Pool people?" Chandler asked from the bed, clearly confused.  "What are you talking about?"

"They're putting in a pool," Monica said as she pulled on her robe.  "I told you that."

"Why?" Chandler asked, perplexed.  "They're old.  What do they need a pool for?"

"Don't ask Dad," Monica warned him.  "You'll get an answer you don't want to hear, trust me.  But supposedly, it's for Ben and their "future grandchildren"."

"Crap," Chandler said, getting out of the bed.  "So the subject of the day will be grandchildren, huh?  That means I _will_ be hearing about sex and all the things I should try to get you pregnant.  And I'm sorry, but hearing that kind of stuff from your father is just creepy."

Monica paused in their doorway and turned back to him.  "Don't worry, honey.  Rachel's coming too and with both Ross and Rachel there, all of their time will be taken with fussing over the baby that's already on the way.  They probably won't even notice we're there."

Chandler heard the resignation in her voice, and walked over to wrap his arms around her.  "Hey," he whispered, kissing the side of her neck.  "It'll be our turn soon enough.  I promise."

"It's not that," Monica sighed, shaking her head.  "It's just… I don't know.  It's seems like no matter what I do, Ross always manages to go one better.  We get married and everything is wonderful, but suddenly he's having a baby and that means the world just **_has_** to stop turning.  No one even bothers to notice that I'm happier than I've ever been in my life, because they're all too busy fussing over the mother- and father-to-be."  

"I'm sorry," Chandler murmured as he held her more tightly, his heart hurting for her, even as it soared with the knowledge that **_he_**was the reason she was happy.  "If you want me to, I'll take off my clothes and run around the backyard naked," he offered, hoping to elicit a smile.  "That'll take attention off Ross."

Monica laughed, leaning her head gratefully against his shoulder.  "What good would that do me, except to prove once and for all that I married an idiot?"

Chandler shrugged and kissed her temple, pleased that her melancholy had slipped away as quickly as it had come.  "Well, it would probably give your mom and Rachel a little thrill."

"Better keep your clothes on, Bing.  At least until we're alone," Monica advised, raising her eyebrows suggestively.  

"We're alone now," Chandler reminded her with a little grin, tilting his head to kiss her as his arms pulled her tightly against his body.  

"Hmm…" Monica murmured as she wrapped her arms around her neck, meeting his lips willingly.  "Well, my parents probably won't care if we're just a _little_ bit late…"

"Hi!" Monica called as she leaped from the Porsche, suddenly anxious to see her parents after spending the entire trip grumbling about the prospect.  "Sorry we're late!"

"**_Not_** sorry we're late," Chandler contradicted under his breath as he came around the side of the car and took her hand, flashing her a sideways grin.  Monica flushed slightly and squeezed his hand in response, before releasing it so they could each greet her parents with the usual hugs and kisses.  Judy didn't look as peeved as Monica had predicted, but Chandler decided he would gladly endure his mother-in-law's evil looks all day long if it meant a morning like he had just shared with Monica.

_We're newlyweds, for cryin' out loud_, he defended himself silently, his eyes fastened on his wife's glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes.  Wordlessly, he slipped up behind her and grabbed her hands, letting their arms hang together by her side as he entwined his fingers with hers.

"Traffic was horrible," Chandler offered in excuse, not daring to look at Monica in case the truth showed on their faces.  He hoped Ross and Rachel would have the good sense not to remind everyone that they had left from an apartment right across the street from the Bings and still made it in time.  "I hope we didn't hold you up."

"No, of course not," Judy assured him, smiling at her son-in-law with a look of complete affection rarely bestowed on her daughter.  "How are you, Chandler?" she continued, reaching over to pat his arm.  "Monica hasn't made you regret marrying her, has she?"

Chandler felt Monica's body stiffen against him, and he swallowed the joking comment that had been on the tip of his tongue.  

"I've never been happier in my life," he told Judy instead, echoing Monica's early morning sentiment.  He kissed the top of Monica's head for emphasis.  "Your daughter is absolutely amazing."

Monica gave him a slight smile as she turned her head just enough to meet his eyes, her gratefulness evident.  Judy sighed as she observed the tender moment, her mother's heart warming at the love evident on their faces.  

"Yeah," Judy agreed softly, reaching over to tuck a strand of Monica's hair behind one ear as Monica turned to face her.  "She is pretty amazing."

Monica's mouth dropped open and she stared as her mother walked away.  Chandler grinned and kissed her cheek, happy for his wife and this minor triumph.

"See?" he whispered into her ear.  "Even your mother has to admit that you're pretty special."

Monica pulled away and turned accusing eyes on her husband.  "Oh come on," she scoffed.  "She only likes me because **_you_** do."

Taken aback by this turn in the conversation, Chandler opened his mouth to respond, then changed his mind and gave her a little grin.

"Yeah, you're probably right.  They do **_adore_** me," Chandler gloated as he took her hands and pulled her towards him.  "And of course your mother doesn't think you're amazing because you're beautiful and kind and smart and loving and wonderful and every other good adjective in the world.  I'm sure the only reason she said you were amazing was because **_I_** said it first and she felt obliged to agree."

Despite a valiant effort, Monica was unable to stop a smile from crossing her face as she rolled her eyes.

"Okay, maybe she likes me a little bit..." she conceded reluctantly.  

"But only a little," Chandler reminded her sarcastically, rolling his eyes back at her good-naturedly.  "Now come on.  If we want to remain in your mother's good graces, we'd probably better start digging."

Monica glanced distractedly toward a cluster of rose bushes, then immediately snapped to attention when her eyes fell on her brother, who – under the supervision of Rachel, of all people – was triumphantly placing the first bush onto the wheelbarrow.

"Grab your shovel, Bing," Monica commanded, impatiently rolling up her sleeves.  "Ross is already one ahead, and we've got to catch up."

Chandler smiled as he watched his wife jog across the yard, focused on nothing but her need to "win" the event of the day.  Shaking his head, Chandler reached for the shovel leaning against the side of the house, then started across the yard after her.

In another life, Chandler Bing would have never dreamed of spending a Saturday digging up roses in his mother-in-law's backyard.  But in this life…he would do anything she asked of him.  Anything at all.

"Last one," Chandler groaned as he fought away his exhaustion, took a deep breath, and plunged his shovel into the ground in front of the final remaining rosebush.  "Your parents are at least going to take us out to dinner after we finish all this manual labor, aren't they?" he asked Monica, glancing her way and smiling at how cute she looked with a dirt-streaked nose and forehead.

"You really want to go out to dinner in those dirty, sweaty clothes you have on?" Monica asked, wrinkling her nose as she appraised her husband's condition.  

Chandler narrowed his eyes playfully, but after a glance down at himself, he didn't argue.  "Fine," he said, grunting as he swung the shovel again.  Whatever response he had to her comment died when the shovel hit something hard and stopped short, jarring Chandler and almost making him lose his balance with the suddenness of it.

"What the…" Chandler muttered, standing up straight to survey the area.  "I think there's something buried here."

"It's probably a rock," Monica said dismissively, picking up her own shovel to prod the small hole Chandler had started.  When her first thrust met with a sharp metallic "ping", Monica withdrew her shovel and stared down into the hole.  "Or not."

"What do you think it is?" Chandler asked quietly, staring into the hole with just a bit of fear.

"I don't know," Monica replied impatiently, glancing up at him.  "But here's an idea.  Why don't we dig it up and see?"

Chandler grimaced and leaned backwards slightly, as if he wanted to get as far away as possible without actually taking a step backwards.  "Maybe we should let Ross do it.  He likes to dig creepy things up."

"Don't be such a baby," Monica admonished her husband, getting down onto her hands and knees to inspect the area.  "Hand me that trowel over there."

"Mon," Chandler warned her as he retrieved the trowel and obediently handed it over.  "Do you really think this is a good idea?  That could be an old – "

"Oh my gosh!" Monica exclaimed, throwing aside her tool and reaching into the hole to grab and pull on whatever she had discovered.  "It's our letters!"

"Our what?" Chandler questioned dryly, knowing he was going to be highly unimpressed with their find if it was really just a bunch of letters. 

"Our – umph!" Monica exhaled as the object popped free of its packed dirt surroundings and sent her sprawling on the ground.  "Our letters!" she repeated as she sat up and grabbed for the blue canister that she had just removed.  "Don't you remember, Chandler?  We buried them and said we would open them in twenty years."

"Oh…yeah," Chandler answered.  He still wasn't completely sure he knew what she was talking about, but her words _had _triggered a vague memory.  Still, finding a bunch of old letters written by pre-adolescents wasn't nearly as cool as finding, say…Kryptonite.

"Come on," Monica urged as she struggled to her feet.  "We've got to show Ross and Rachel."

Chandler was sure they would be about as impressed as he was, but he just shrugged and followed Monica to the house, not about to refuse the opportunity for a short rest.  

Rachel had spent the afternoon on the porch, having discovered that one pro for pregnancy was that no one objected when she said she probably shouldn't be doing yardwork in the hot sun, and left Ross to work with Jack.  After being driven away from the last rosebush by Monica (who was keeping count and knew that the last one would be the "tiebreaker"), Ross had joined Rachel on the porch and interrupted her afternoon of peaceful solitude with his stream of solicitous questions and offers of help.  Both were relieved to see Monica headed toward them with a less-enthusiastic Chandler in tow.

"Look what we found!" Monica announced gleefully, holding up the canister so they could see it.  "It's our letters."

"What letters?" Rachel asked, scrunching up her nose in distaste.  "And what are you doing with that dirty thing?"

"The letters we wrote and buried in the yard so we could dig them up twenty years later and see if our lives had turned out anything like we thought they would," Ross answered her in an excited rush, his eyes wide with awe as he grabbed for the canister.  "I can't believe we forgot about these!"

"I know!" Monica shouted, pulling the container closer to her body so that Ross couldn't take it.  "Isn't this exciting?"  
            Chandler and Rachel exchanged a look, both feeling a measure of pity for the siblings.  "You married one of them," Rachel reminded Chandler under her breath, making sure Ross and Monica couldn't hear her.  

Chandler smirked.  "So did you," he shot back at her, ignoring the glare Rachel rewarded him with.  "And I think – **_I think_** – you're having his baby."  Rachel grimaced and Chandler smiled sweetly as Monica glanced suspiciously in their direction.  When his wife's eyes lingered on him rather than immediately going back to the object in front of her, Chandler decided he had better start being attentive to her little project before she got upset with his lack of enthusiasm.  

"So what are we waiting for?" Chandler asked, the pitch of his voice rising in false eagerness.  "Let's read the letters."  
            "Okay!" Monica agreed loudly, beginning to pry the rusted lid off the can.  "Ross, hand me that screwdriver over there."

"Wait," Ross cautioned, staring at the sacred object in Monica's arms.  "Has it been twenty years?"

"Oh, who cares?" Rachel asked, rising to her feet as her curiosity got the best of her.  "Just open the damn thing!"

"Here, honey," Chandler said, offering Monica the screwdriver.  "Try that spot there.  It doesn't look too rusty."

"Let's see, I was about to start the 7th Grade that summer – I remember because we got to do rock collections that year and I found that big silver-looking one when we dug the hole – so I would have been almost twelve…"  Ross stared up at the sky, counting off on his fingers as he made each point.  "And I'll be thirty-two in December, so –" Ross stopped mid-sentence and glanced over at the others, who were in the final stages of removing the lid.  "That means this year would be twenty years.  Huh," he concluded.  "That's ironic."

"There!" Monica tossed the lid aside when it was completely free, then reached into the canister and pulled out the packet of envelopes, wrapped in plastic.  

"Ooh, that one's mine!" Rachel exclaimed, forgetting that she was supposed to be coolly indifferent to the find.  "I can't wait to see what I wrote."

"Me too," Monica agreed, pulling her own envelope from the package.  "I can't remember at all."

"We should read them out loud," Chandler suggested as he took his own and handed Ross the final envelope.  "Who wants to go first?"

"I will!" Ross volunteered eagerly, and tore into his envelope without waiting for a reply.  "Okay, here we go.  **_When I grow up…_**"


	2. Ross's Future

**_Ross's Future:_**

****

"As you can see, the evidence is indisputable.  The recently discovered Gellersaurus was undoubtedly the strongest, fastest, largest, and most ferocious dinosaur that walked on this planet."

With a final smile and a confident thump of his notecards on the podium, Dr. Ross Geller gave the gathering of his colleagues, students, and the media a nod and stepped away from his microphone.  Immediately, he was accosted by flashing cameras, eager reporters, and congratulatory friends and acquaintances.  

"I'm sorry," he told them all with a charming smile.  "But I really must get home.  I promised my son I would help him with his science project.  Only six, and already a contestant in the national contest," Ross exulted, hoping the numerous newspapers and magazines present would quote him on that.

The people surrounding him, even the disappointed media personnel, nodded in understanding, then fell back to allow the brilliant paleontologist – and dedicated husband and father - to pass through.  Ross turned at the door for one last wave and smile, then headed quickly for the limo waiting for him outside.  

"Home, Dr. Geller?" the driver asked, glancing at Ross in the rearview mirror. 

"To Scarsdale," Ross confirmed with a smile as he settled into the luxurious leather seats.  He sighed as he reviewed the speech he had just given, deciding that he had done well.  Stardom had been forced on him when he discovered the evidence of this new dinosaur – which had been appropriately named after him – but he felt that he had adjusted well.  And of course he never allowed his job to take precedence over his family.

His wife Michelle met him at the door with a kiss, and they both waved as the limousine rounded the circular driveway in front of their home and headed back down the road.  

"I'm glad you're here," Michelle stated as she helped him out of his coat.  "The boys have been anxious to get started on the project."

"Have they?" Ross asked with a smile, pleased with his offspring's interest in all things scientific.  "Are they upstairs?"

Michelle nodded, and Ross walked over to the bottom of the stairs.  "Ty!  Rex!" he called up to them.   "I'm home, boys."

Six-year-old Tyler and four-year-old Rex came thundering down the stairs and threw themselves at their father.  

"Daddy, I finished building my solar-powered airplane," Ty announced proudly, holding the toy plane up for Ross to appraise.  

"I helped!" Rex chirped, hanging on Ross's leg.  "Can we go try it, Daddy?"

"In a little while," Ross assured them, taking the plane from Ty and inspecting it.  "Let's have dinner first, then we'll go outside before we start working on Ty's project."

"Whoo-hoo, the robot!" Rex cheered, as he took off running for the dining room.  "Let's eat quick, Ty."

"We need to wash our hands first, Rex," Ty reminded his younger brother, loping after him.  "Come on, I'll help you."

Ross shook his head as he watched his sons head down the hallway, a goofy grin of contentment on his face.  When he heard the water running in the bathroom, he turned to follow Michelle into the dining room.

"I didn't want to say anything in front of the boys," Ross began as they took their seats, "but the guy from Disney World called again today.  They want to know if I'll be a consultant for a new ride they're thinking of doing.  They want to feature the Gellersaurus, but there would be other dinosaurs in it too."

"Disney World?  Wow," Michelle commented, suitably impressed.  "That would be fun.  Hey, speaking of Disney World, have you decided about the Dino-Planet movie yet?"  
            "Not yet," Ross told her.  "I think it would be fun to play a paleontologist that manages to bring dinosaurs back to life for a theme park, but I don't want to spend so much time away from you and the kids.  Especially with the twins coming."

"We'll be fine," Michelle assured him, placing a hand on her stomach, which was just beginning to swell.  "Don't hold back on our account."

"But the most important thing in my life is you and the kids.  I don't want to put anything ahead of you."

The conversation was put on hold when Tyler and Rex arrived at the table, and Ross busied himself helping his sons serve themselves and cut up their meat.  He smiled to himself as the chatter at the table rose several decibels, knowing he wouldn't want it any other way.

The sound of not-so-quiet whispers woke Ross the next morning, and he rolled over to look into his younger son's mischievous eyes. 

"Morning, Daddy," Rex said, taking his father's open eyes as an invitation to leap on top of him.  "Time to get up!"

"Quiet, Rex," came a voice from the other side of the bed.  Ross turned to find Ty sitting on the other side of Michelle.  "Mom's still asleep."

"Not anymore," Michelle commented dryly as she raised herself to a sitting position and reached out to pull Tyler onto her lap.  "Typical Sunday morning," she said softly, turning to Ross with a smile. 

"I brought the paper upstairs," Ty announced importantly, holding up the New York Times.  "I get the Science section first!"

"No, me!" Rex objected, putting his hands on his hips. 

"You can't read," Ty reminded his brother, sounding more like a sixteen-year-old than a six-year-old.  

"I can so," Rex claimed, then paused to think that over.  "Daddy can tell me the big words."

"I want it first," Ty maintained, looking at his mother for support.  Michelle just shook her head.  

"Give me the front page – the three of you can fight over the rest," she told them, smiling as Ross grabbed the pages out of Tyler's unsuspecting hands.  Ty looked like he was considering a rebuttal, but finally climbed over Michelle and settled down next to Ross as Rex climbed into his father's lap.  

Michelle took her pages and shook her head as she watched her husband and sons sharing the Science section.  Rex was pointing excitedly, while Ty read carefully, absorbing everything.  Their father was reading and explaining, grinning like a madman.

He had the perfect life.

**_End "Ross's Future" – Back to the Present:_**

            Ross stared down at the paper in his hand, then slowly folded it.  His gaze fell on Rachel's stomach, where his child still lay hidden from unknowing eyes, and swallowed hard.  His life wasn't exactly the way he had once imagined it, and his severely dysfunctional family was far from the "Leave It To Beaver" ideal he had always hoped for.    

            "Ty and Rex?  _Really_, Ross?" Rachel was saying skeptically, her face lit with a teasing smile.  

            "What's wrong with Ty and Rex?" Ross countered, his eyes narrowing.  "They're good names."

            "What I'd like to know is what he planned on naming the 'twins'," Chandler commented sarcastically, leaning against the wall.  "Stego and Saurus?"

            "No…" Ross said defensively.  "Rhona and Sara," he continued quietly, amazed that he even remembered the names that went with those of his imaginary sons, dreamed up so many years ago…and more than a little embarrassed about sharing them with his friends.  The others looked at each other, mulling over those names and trying to figure out how they could use them to humiliate Ross further.  When inspiration hit, Chandler suddenly started to laugh, choking in his eagerness to share his discovery with Rachel and Monica.

            "TyRhonaSara Rex?" he finally managed to gasp out.  "You've _got_ to be kidding me!"  ****

            "I was twelve," Ross defended himself, his face reddening as he realized that, at 32, he still thought the names were clever.  "You know what though?" he continued, his face taking on a thoughtfully faraway expression as he purposely led the conversation in another direction.  "This proves I had the idea for "Jurassic Park" first…"

            "Yeah, created by, directed by, produced by, and starring Dr. Ross Geller, SuperPaleontologist ," Monica teased.  

            Ross blushed.  "Yeah, well…maybe you shouldn't laugh until we've heard your letters, too," he warned them, satisfied when all three sobered immediately and directed their gazes elsewhere.  "So come on.  Who's next?"

            "I'll go," Chandler said with a casual shrug, sliding a finger under the edge of the envelope to open it and retrieving his letter.  "Here goes…**_When I grow up…_**"


	3. Chandler's Future

**_AN:  I ask you to keep in mind, especially for this chapter, that the "letters" would have been written in the early 80's.  So I did my best to correspond to that (though it was hard to come up with a comedian!).  Still don't hold me to the specific timeline – I did the best I could, but some references would have actually come after letters would have been written.  _**

****

**_Chandler's Future:_**

            "Mr. Bing, how do you feel about being called "one of the great comedic voices of our time?" "          

            "Mr. Bing, you've said before that Bill Cosby inspired you to go into stand-up comedy, and then into acting.  What was it like to star in a movie with your idol?"  
            "Mr. Bing, _People_ Magazine has named you comedy's leading man of the year.  Do you feel that you've 'arrived' in the world of Hollywood?"

            "Mr. Bing, your movie has been nominated for 17 _Oscars_, including Best Picture, and you have been nominated for Best Actor.  What does this kind of recognition mean for your personal life?"

"Mr. Bing, journalists have paired you with Drew Barrymore, especially with_ E.T. The Sequel _now in production.  Is it true that the two of you are in a relationship?"

            Chandler smiled for the cameras but avoided the barrage of questions as he headed for the entrance of the theater.  He had grown accustomed to the persistent voices that seemed to follow him everywhere (making him joke sometimes that he wondered if he was schizophrenic), but sometimes he still had to stop and think about how he had gotten into this.

            He spotted his costar just inside the theater, and slowly pushed his way in that direction, greeting acquaintances and gracefully accepting gushing compliments on his way.  He rolled his eyes playfully as he reached **the** Bill Cosby, amazed that his resume now included a role opposite this comedy legend.  Not only that, but he was also allowed – actually required – to call the man Bill.  The taping had been almost completed before Chandler broke his habit of addressing him as "Mr. Cosby".  

            "What a crowd," Chandler remarked as he shook his idol's hand and glanced around them.  "Think we'll live up to all the hype?"

            "I think the question is, is all the hype going to do us justice," Bill Cosby replied, grinning.  "Are you ready for this?"

            "Hey, I've done this before," Chandler replied nonchalantly, trying not to let his nervousness show.  It was true; he had been in this position before.  But never for a movie this big, with so much expectation and publicity.  And never with such big names surrounding his.  This was the first time he had worked with the great Steven Spielberg, but he had already signed on for two more pictures with the movie icon, and they were negotiating a third.

            "Where's your date?" Bill asked him, glancing around them.  "Don't tell me the brilliant Chandler Bing, most eligible bachelor in America, is here alone?"

            "Yeah, it's a funny thing.  The papers tell me I'm in a hot and heavy relationship with Drew Barrymore, but for some reason, she's not returning my calls."  Chandler shrugged as if baffled, and Mr. Cosby laughed out loud.

            "You need a girl, Chandler," he advised him, giving him a wink.  "Give the tabloids something real to blow out of proportion."

            "Nah," Chandler replied, running one hand through his hair.  "Nah, I'm doing okay by myself."

            Chandler was grateful when the movement of the crowd into the theater interrupted the conversation.  He followed the throng into the theater and took a seat, preparing himself for the festivities.  It was going to be a long night, but he figured he would probably have more fun than he'd ever had in his life.

            "I love my job," Chandler groaned as he flopped, alone, onto the couch in his Beverly Hills mansion.  Sighing deeply, he loosened his tie and reached for the remote.  4:00 am or not, he was sure there would be a number of stories on the premiere of his new movie, and he always got a thrill out of seeing himself smiling at the cameras on tv.  

            "…Bing arriving for the premiere of his new comedy _Ordinary People_, where he stars opposite Bill Cosby.  The movie is nominated for 17 Oscars and is already being hailed the best comedy of the year."

            He was right, they were talking about him.  And there he was on the screen, lifting one hand in the sort of half-wave that movie stars seemed to perfect - his hair perfectly styled, his face tan from his recent trip to Hawaii.  

            "Widely recognized as the hottest bachelor in Hollywood, Bing has most recently been linked to his costar in the upcoming _E.T. The Sequel_ – Drew Barrymore.  He has refused to comment on the relationship, but we expect to see more of the couple when filming on _E.T. _begins next month."

            _Trust the entertainment world to go straight for the tabloid rumors_, Chandler thought wryly, unaffected by the false statements.  It didn't really matter what they were saying, as long as they were talking about him.  Besides, it wasn't like he had a wife or girlfriend to get jealous over speculation.  Maybe he would mind if he was attached, but he wasn't.  So he didn't see the point in getting upset.

            "In the meantime," the reporter was continuing on the tv set, "look for Hollywood sensation Chandler Bing in _Ordinary People_, opening next week in a theater near you."

            Chandler turned the tv off and turned on to his back, staring at the ceiling high above him as he smiled to himself.  

What a life he led.  

****

**_End "Chandler's Future" – Back to the Present:_**

            "Well," Chandler said with a little laugh, breaking the slightly awkward silence that had followed the reading of his letter.  "Guess I better not show this to Joey, huh?  He might get jealous."

"I never knew you wanted to be an actor," Monica said quietly, her forehead puckered in an expression Chandler couldn't quite decipher.  Was it surprise?  Confusion?  Disappointment maybe?

"I…I didn't," Chandler said, looking down at the letter in his hand.  "Well, I guess I did," he corrected himself, holding the paper up in the air as proof.  "But never seriously.  This was just a - a game."

"See, things didn't turn out the way you expected them to, either," Ross commented with satisfaction, feeling that he had just been vindicated.  

"No…no they didn't," Chandler responded, still staring at the letter with a solemn expression on his face, trying to remember the child he had been when he had dreamed up such a successful – but lonely – future.  He lifted his head and looked at Monica, who was biting her lip and staring at the ground, and felt a sudden surge of thankfulness that in his _reality_, it was the dreams that mattered that had come true.  There were other ways to make your life successful, he realized now.  And they had nothing to do with fame or money.

 "Can you imagine?" Chandler commented with a forced laugh, trying to cover the emotional edge in his voice as he discreetly reached out to grab Monica's hand, hoping the contact would reassure both of them.  "Me, nominated for an Oscar.  How badly would I screw up my acceptance speech, huh?"

Ross laughed openly, happy that attention had moved away from him, while Rachel chuckled more softly and Monica simply smiled.  Chandler leaned his head against hers, lowering his voice so that Ross and Rachel wouldn't hear.

"Would you still love me if I were rich and famous?" he asked huskily, releasing her hand so he could slip his arm around her waist.  Monica smiled and raised her eyes to his, her cheeks flushing in response to the tone of his voice.

"Probably not," she informed him with a playful shrug, though her eyes told him differently.  "I bet you'd have an ego the size of your bank account."

Chandler smirked in response to that, and gave her an affectionate wink before turning to include Ross and Rachel in his next comment.

"Well, now that Ross and I have both humiliated ourselves…"  He paused and looked from Monica to Rachel and back again.  "Which one of you girls is going next?"

"Rachel," Monica announced firmly, just as Rachel pointed and said "Monica".  The girls locked eyes, each trying to stare the other down.  Finally, Rachel sighed, knowing that there was no way her own willpower would overcome Monica's.  

"Fine," she relented, picking up her letter.  "I'll go."

As Rachel reluctantly used her fingernail to open the envelope, Monica put one arm around Chandler's waist and leaned in close.

"I'm glad you're not a movie star," she whispered into his ear.  "I'm glad you're just Chandler.  _My_ Chandler."

Chandler pressed his lips against her temple and swallowed hard, hoping she would hear his silent agreement.  He would tell her later, when they were alone in their apartment, just how glad he was that his life had turned out the way it had.  For now, he was content to have her close to him.  

"Okay," Rachel began, lifting her eyes to glare at Monica one last time.  She took a deep breath and cleared her throat.  

"**_When I grow up…_**"


	4. Rachel's Future

**_Rachel's Future:_**

****

"I said _beige_, Christiana, not taupe.  I can't put a _taupe_ dress in this show."  Rachel stopped and sighed, placing the back of one hand dramatically on her forehead as she thought.  "Okay, I'll need the strapless chiffon in lilac.  _Lilac_, Chris.  Not violet or purple.  Lilac."

Christiana darted away with only a nod, the taupe dress Rachel was so critical of slung over one arm, already forgotten.  Rachel sighed and shook her head, then turned her attention to the model swaying toward her in a fresh mint-green pantsuit.

"Lila, you look stunning.  Have Delia touch up your eye makeup, will you?  Perfect, just perfect," Rachel concluded breezily, Lila already forgotten as she turned to examine the red and black stripes on the girl who had just passed them.

"Kate," she called, and the girls turned to face her.  Rachel examined her with a critical eye, then nodded in affirmation with her thoughts.  "It needs a belt, dear.  Get the big black one with the silver things?  Wonderful…"

Kate headed straight for accessories, seeming to know exactly which "black one with silver things" Rachel was referring to.  
            "Ten minutes, Rach," came a familiar voice at her side, and Rachel turned to her best friend, nervousness making her smile quiver for the first time.  Monica was the only one she would allow to see her real feelings.

"I think so," Rachel confided in a whisper, her eyes darting around the room, then settling back on Monica.  "Do you think they'll like them?"

"Of course they will," Monica soothed her.  "Your designs are beautiful, Rachel.  You're good at this."

"Raquel," Rachel corrected quickly, momentarily panicked that someone would overhear Monica calling her Rachel.  "Raquel, Mon, at least in public."

Monica rolled her eyes, but nodded her agreement with her friend's wishes.  "Fine, Raquel.  I still think it's stupid that you don't go by your real name."

"It sounds better," Rachel defended herself.  "More like a famous designer.  Just be glad I don't make you go by Monique.  I could, you know."

"Then you wouldn't have an assistant," Monica shot back good-naturedly.  "Now come on, we need to a final check.  I'll take the girls on the right, you take the ones on the left.  The curtain's up in –" Monica checked her watch – "eight minutes."

"Okay," Rachel breathed, visibly steeling herself.  "My first show.  My first show!" she exulted like a schoolgirl, grabbing Monica's shoulders and just barely resisting the urge to shake her friend with nervous excitement.  

"Your first show," Monica repeated, her own eyes shining with happiness for her friend.  "Oh, Rach, they're going to be so impressed with you!"

Monica gave Rachel a quick hug, then gently turned her toward the left side of the room, where the models were falling into a line, knowing the inspection would be forthcoming.  Monica watched to make sure Rachel had reverted back into her take-charge personality, then turned to begin the same task with the other side of the room.  

Within moments, Rachel and Monica were reunited just offstage, gripping each other's hand as they peeked out at the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is our pleasure to present the debut of America's most promising young designer, and a clothing line that has already been picked up by retailers such as Bloomingdales and Macy's.  Please welcome…Ms. Raquel Green!"

Rachel squeezed Monica's hand, and a moment later, she was walking confidently onto the stage, her smile immediately enchanting every fashion critic in the audience.  Not a single outward sign of her inner turmoil, Monica noticed with admiration.

"Thank you all for coming…"

"Well?" Rachel asked fretfully, her eyes glued to the newspaper in Monica's hands.  "What does it say?"

"Hold on, hold on," Monica mumbled as her eyes scanned the pages, searching for the words they were both so anxious to hear.  "Oh!  Here it is!"  She looked up to smile at Rachel, taking a rather sadistic pleasure in watching her best friend squirm.  "You ready?"

"Yes!" was Rachel's only response.

"Okay.  'Raquel Green, the new Queen of Fashion?  No, not quite.  But her debut show yesterday proved that rumors about this young lady's talent are not unfounded.  Her designs are fresh and sophisticated, the colors perfectly blended in exactly the right shades, and the materials flattering to any woman's figure.  So, although we cannot yet endow Ms. Green with the title of "Queen", I think it's safe to say that's she is an intriguing, inspiring new "princess" in the world of fashion.  There are certainly great things to come from this promising young designer.' "

Monica looked up at Rachel, who was staring, speechless, straight ahead.  "Rach?  Honey, you okay?"

Rachel swallowed, and slowly shifted her eyes to Monica's face.  "That's – that's good, right?  Those things they said?"

"Good?"  Monica laughed, giddily pleased for her friend.  "Yeah, Rach.  They're good.  Really good.  You made it, sweetie!"

"Good.  They think I'm good," Rachel whispered in awe, her eyes growing wide.  "Monica, they called me a **_princess_**_i_!"  
            "I know!" Monica shrieked, grabbing Rachel's arms and dancing them around in a circle.  

"I gotta call Daddy," Rachel suddenly announced, marching off like a woman on a mission to retrieve her cell phone from Monica's kitchen counter.  "He always said I'd be a princess!"

"Don't forget to call Tristan," Monica reminded her, referring to Rachel's doctor-husband, who was presently on duty at Mount Sinai.  "He said to call the minute we read it."

"Okay, I'll call Tristan first," Rachel agreed, as if thoughts of her husband had been her own and not Monica.  "Then Daddy!  Oh, and Amy will be so jealous when she hears…"

Monica just smiled and took a seat on the couch as Rachel picked up the phone and dialed Tristan's number at the hospital.  Immediately, her voice took on the formal tone she seemed to use so often when she was around Tristan's colleagues.  "Dr. Tristan Pierce, please."

There was a moment of silence, then Rachel's voice was back to normal.  "Sweetie, guess what!  I'm a princess!  They called me a princess…"

**_End Rachel's Future – Back to the Present:_**

"You made me your _assistant_?" Monica commented distastefully, not enjoying the sudden sensation of being Rachel Green's loyal sidekick all over again.  "I couldn't have a life of my own in your little world?"  
            "What?" Rachel asked innocently.  "At least I had you _in_ the letter.  Besides, what else would you have done in the fashion world?  You weren't exactly model material back then, Mon, no matter how great you look now."

"Well…okay, you have a point," Monica conceded, partially mollified by Rachel's compliment of her current appearance and the truth about her former one.  "But still."

"And Raquel?" Ross commented skeptically, with a slightly malicious smile.  "You would have changed your name?"

"Alright, Mr. Name-My-Kids-So-It-Sounds-Like-A-Dinosaur.  I don't think you have any room to criticize on the name front."  

"Thank God you already work at Ralph Lauren," Chandler remarked as Ross retreated to a chair to sulk.  "If we'd read these while you were still waitressing at Central perk, you would've had all of us stuffing envelopes with resumes.  Oh wait, you _did_ make us do that!" he finished with a grin, and was rewarded with a scowl from Rachel.

"And can you imagine if they," Monica gestured between Ross and Rachel, "were still dating?  Ross would go on one of his jealous rampages, demanding to know who this Tristan guy was."

"I would not," Ross defended sullenly from his chair.  "He doesn't even exist.  And what kind of name is Tristan anyway?"

"There you go with the names again," Rachel cut in warningly, her expression beginning to morph into the infamous glare reserved for Ross, and Ross alone.  

"Okay guys," Chandler interrupted, before the situation escalated to "WE WERE ON A BREAK!" in record time.  "Play nice.  Besides, we still have one more letter to read."  

"Yeah, Mon," Rachel added, her attention diverted just as Chandler had hoped.  "Your turn."

"Fine," Monica sighed, shooting Chandler a look that told him she wasn't pleased with him for reminding everyone that her letter remained to be read.  She picked up her envelope and turned it over in her hands before gently tearing it open.  She pulled out the single sheet of paper and unfolded it slowly.

She sucked in her breath sharply as her eyes fell to the page, and Chandler stepped forward with concern as her face went white.  Monica immediately waved him away, and he paused midstep, watching as the color returned to her face in excess, flushing her cheeks and neck.  

"I'm fine," she assured them weakly, flashing a distracted smile as she looked back down at the letter, carefully avoiding Chandler's eyes.  

"What does it say?" Rachel asked, amused by her friend's reaction.  "C'mon, Monica, it can't be as bad as all that.  What, did you say you wanted fifteen kids or something?"

"Maybe she wrote that she wanted to marry "Dr. Burke"," Ross offered, soliciting immediate death-glares from both Chandler and Monica.  "What?  Even Rachel had one of those schoolgirl crushes on him."

"That's true," Rachel admitted, looking at Monica with interest.  "And it would certainly explain why doesn't want to read it.  Wouldn't that be ironic?  If all those years ago, she wrote in a letter that she wanted to - "

"I didn't want to marry Richard," Monica cut in sharply, finally finding her voice as her fiery gaze moved between Rachel and Ross, not believing that they could be so insensitive.  She turned to Chandler, her heart melting as she took in the distressed expression on his face.  "It doesn't, sweetie."

Chandler just nodded, valiantly producing an uncertain smile as he accepted her denial.  Monica sighed, wishing she could strangle her brother and wondering at the same time why just the mention of Richard Burke's name could make Chandler look like a lost little boy.  

"So what does it say?" Rachel asked impatiently, unaffected by the look passing between Chandler and Monica.  

"It says," Monica began indignantly, pausing to glance at Chandler.  He was watching her intently, and as a surge of warmth for him filled her heart, she made a quick decision.

"It says," she repeated more softly, with a determined edge to her voice.  "**_When I grow up…_**"


	5. Monica's Future

**_Monica's Future:_**

            "Well?" Monica asked anxiously as Jake, her head waiter, walked into the kitchen.

            "Well, they love it," Jake announced with a wink.  "I swear, Monica, I didn't think I could hear more lofty compliments than they had about the main course, but I think a couple of them might have actually had orgasms over that dessert."

            "Really?" Monica asked, her voice rising toward a squeal as a grin spread across her face.  "You wouldn't lie about this, would you Jake?"

            "Really," Jake assured her seriously.  "I've worked here for five years, Monica, and I've never seen a more impressive dinner."

            Monica clasped her hands together, breathing a sigh of relief.  She had jumped at the opportunity to be a private chef, but she had never imagined it would be _quite_ this stressful to put together an elaborate banquet for 200.  It made her a little queasy to know that this was only the first of many such evenings.

            With a deep breath, Monica steadied her nerves once again and struggled to regain her air of professionalism.  She turned to her smiling staff, who had been waiting just as eagerly as she had for the report from the banquet room.

            "Congratulations," she said with a grin as she looked at each of them.  "Our first dinner together was a success!"  

            The announcement was met with cheers.  Monica basked in the heady feeling of success for a moment before holding up her hand to get their attention.

            "Now for the best part – the clean up!" she announced excitedly, glancing around in surprise when groans erupted from the group in front of her.  Before she could go any further, Jake walked back into the kitchen with an even bigger smile than before.

            "Monica," he called out.  "There's someone here who wants to compliment the chef!"

            Monica turned around, her eyes wide.  "Really?"

            "Yes," came her boss's voice, as he stepped into the kitchen behind Jake.  "That was a wonderful meal, Chef Geller.  I received compliments on the food from everyone in attendance an I thought it only fair that I pass them on to the deserving party."  He paused and gave her a quick wink.  "I'm already looking forward to the next one."

            Monica managed a smile, her mouth dry.  Unsure of how she should respond, she nervously clasped her hands in front of her and gave her new employer a kind of bow with her head.  Swallowing hard, she forced herself to speak.

            "Thank you, Mr. President."

            "I think it went well, Mom," Monica commented into her cell phone as she drove home later that evening.  "The President even came back to the kitchen to compliment me!"

            "Monica, dear, we're so proud of you," Judy said fondly.  "Imagine, my daughter cooking meals for the President of the United States!"

            "I know!" Monica crowed, the compliment from her mother just as important to her as the one from the President, rare as they had been while she was growing up.  "Tell you what, Mom, I'll cater your next party, just so you can tell your guests that their food was cooked by the President's chef."

            "Darling, that's a great idea!" Judy exclaimed, undeniably pleased by the prospect of impressing her friends.  "I can't wait to show you off to everyone."

            "I've got to go, Mom," Monica said as she pulled into the driveway of her new house in an upscale Georgetown neighborhood.  "Give Dad my love, okay?  And tell Ross hello."

            "I will, sweetie," Judy said, her voice soft.  "Congratulations on tonight."

            "Thanks, Mom," Monica replied, feeling a lump come into her throat.  "Goodnight."

            "Goodnight."

            Monica flipped her phone shut and sat in the car for a moment, reflecting.  

            Her mother was proud of her.  That alone was enough to make her feel successful.  

**_End Monica's Future – Back to the Present:_**

****

****

"The President," Chandler said, glancing up at the sky as if searching for something funny to say.  "That's pretty cool," he finally commented, at a loss.

"So were you having a secret affair with him?" Rachel asked eagerly, sure there had to be dirt somewhere.

"No," Monica answered, giving her a dirty look.  "What makes you think that?"  
            "Because otherwise that little dream of yours is just too goody-two-shoes to be true."

"What?  Of course it's true!"

Rachel narrowed her eyes, suddenly suspicious.  Monica glanced away, hoping they would all let the subject drop.

"Isn't it funny?" she asked instead, hoping to divert the conversation from herself.  "How different things turned out for all of us?"

"You're still a great chef," Chandler commented with a sweet little grin, "and Ross is still a dinosaur freak."

"And I'm in fashion, even if I'm not a designer," Rachel said thoughtfully, then looked appraisingly at Chandler.  "But Chandler…is definitely not a movie star.  He's just a – what is it you do again?"

"It's not our work lives that are so different from what we thought," Chandler said quietly, then quickly amended his statement after a glance at Rachel.  "Okay, except for mine.  It's our personal lives.  In that respect, none of us have lives like we thought we would."  

The four of them fell into a thoughtful silence, glancing around at each other and thinking about the things that had been revealed during the course of the afternoon.  Finally, Ross stood up and motioned toward the yard, ready to drop the subject.  

"We should probably finish up that last rosebush so we can head back to the city.  I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready for a shower."

"We'll get it," Monica cut in quickly, including Chandler in her offer.  "Why don't you and Rachel head on back?"

Ross looked to Rachel for her approval before nodding his agreement.  "Okay, if you're sure."

"Sure," Monica said firmly, ignoring the look Chandler was giving her.  "And why don't you come over for dinner – say, seven?  I'll cook you a feast fit for a president," she added with a wink.  
            "No fish," Rachel cautioned her, gesturing toward her stomach.  "Dayton doesn't like fish."

"Dayton?" Ross repeated as Rachel stood.  "You're kidding, right?  There's no way we're naming our child Dayton."

"Don't you dare suggest we call this baby Rex, Ross," Rachel warned, their voices fading as they went into the house to bid Jack and Judy farewell.

"Okay, let's go get the bush," Chandler said, wearily turning back toward the yard.  "I'm ready to go home."

"Wait," Monica said softly, gently turning him to face her.  Standing on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard, trying to put all the love she felt for him into that one moment.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear, pecking him softly on the cheek as she pulled away from him.  

"For what?" Chandler asked innocently, brushing a strand of hair tenderly away from her face.

Monica smiled and placed a hand lovingly on his cheek.

"For making all my dreams come true," she told him.  "For giving me everything I ever wanted."

"But you – "

Monica stopped him with a gentle peck on the lips.  "Doesn't matter, Chandler.  My life is as close to perfect as it could ever be.  Because of you."

Chandler smiled and bowed his head to rest his forehead against hers.  "I love you so much."

"I love you," she replied emphatically with a tender half-smile.  "So much."

Monica kissed him one more time, then walked past him and out into the yard.  Chandler watched her for a moment, then turned to follow her.  As he walked off the porch, a slip of white paper caught his eye, and he leaned over to pick it up, not sure whether Monica dropped it by accident or left it there intentionally for him to find.  He picked up it up and turned it over, smiling at the messy, childish scrawl that was so different from his wife's neat, even script before noticing with surprise that there only two lines of writing on the paper.  Stopping in the middle of the yard, he stared at the paper in disbelief, then looked across the yard at Monica, who was watching him with a knowing smile on her face. 

            He glanced back down at the paper in his hands and read the words again, swallowing to relieve the lump that was suddenly growing in his throat.  

            **_When I grow up_**, the letter said, **_I want to marry Chandler Bing_**.

**_AN:  Well, I think that was much better in theory than in reality, but…there it is.  =)  Please review!_**


End file.
